<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Too Early, Too Late by thatcrazywriterley</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23680024">Too Early, Too Late</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatcrazywriterley/pseuds/thatcrazywriterley'>thatcrazywriterley</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Too Late Tales [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>AEW, All Elite Wrestling, Being The Elite (Web Series), Young Bucks-Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Multi, Polyamorous Relationships, Polyamory, brothers share a wife, teaching the kids to wrestle, the young bucks present, the young does</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:02:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23680024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatcrazywriterley/pseuds/thatcrazywriterley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Young Bucks introduce the hottest new wrestling tag team, the Young Does. They just happen to be 7 and 4 and a half.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Matt Jackson/Reader, Matt Jackson/Reader/Nick Jackson, Nick Jackson/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Too Late Tales [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Too Early, Too Late</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was heavily influenced by BTE 199 Part 1. That whole sequence of them in the ring with their kids... my ovaries exploded and my heart melted.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>(GIF owned by cowboysht on Tumblr)</em>
</p><p>“Please be careful,” I said, sitting in the shade and watching the insanity that was my husbands. Eighteen-month-old Lee napped in the playpen at my side, a sippy cup of juice still grasped in his pudgy baby fingers. I was glad he was too small for the shenanigans Matt and Nick were up to in the back yard. My hand rested on the curve of my stomach. Baby number four was just a few days away.</p><p>            Nick leaned against the ropes of the ring they’d pulled out of storage. It was on old one from a promotion that had long gone out of business, and it was better-and safer—than the one that their dad had built when they were backyard wrestling as teens. He smiled at me, tipping his baseball cap down over his eyes. “It’s gonna be fine, Y/N,” he said easily. “Trust us.”</p><p>            It was the same thing he’d said over and over during our eight years together. When Mattie wanted to be tossed into the pool by her Dada… when Nicole wanted to bounce on the trampoline with her sister and her Papa… when we went to the arcade center and the girls wanted to ride the go-karts with their fathers… every time, Nick always looked at me with those blue eyes and smiled and said <em>trust us</em>.</p><p>            I did. I trusted them with everything. But that didn’t stop me from having a mini panic attack every time they tried anything that wasn’t 100% safe.</p><p>            Matt sat on the top turnbuckle nearby, Nicole—now four-and-a-half—sitting on his knee. “It’s okay, Mama. If anybody’s going to get hurt, it’s us. This tag team is 1,642 and 0 against the us. The Young Does whip us every time.”</p><p>            Seven-year-old Mattie looked over at her Papa and her baby sister. She was sitting on the apron, swinging her feet against the steel frame. “We need merch, Papa.”</p><p>            Nick snorted and leaned over the top rope to ruffle her dark brown hair. “You want gear too?”</p><p>            “Yep,” she looked up at Nick with eyes that matched his. “With the fringes just like yours. The ones Mama likes.”</p><p>            I grinned. “The Lisa Frank ones. Or the green lightning bolts.”</p><p>            Matt turned to stare at me, one brow raised quizzically. “Not the ones with our faces all over them?”</p><p>            I closed my eyes and dropped my chin to my chest. Then I whispered to my belly, still loud enough that they could hear. “That gear gives me nightmares, baby.”</p><p>            The thump and rumble of the boards of the ring startled me. Matt had hopped down from the turnbuckle. I glanced to my side, surprised to see that Lee was still sound asleep. The ring gave a faint rattle with every step as Matt sat Nicole on the apron next to Mattie. “Watch your sister for a second,” he said, grinning at our eldest daughter.</p><p>            Mattie turned sideways and held Nicole in her lap. Two pairs of worshipping blue eyes watched as Matt and Nick bounced on the balls of their feet. Nick took a few running steps and leaned into the ropes, propelling himself back across the ring. Halfway across, he tucked into a front roll. He got to his feet and climbed to the top rope, then flipped backwards off of it, landing lightly. The girls clapped and squealed as Nick ran to the opposite corner, leaned into the turnbuckle, and flipped himself heels over the head onto the apron.</p><p>            Surprisingly, his hat stayed on.</p><p>            “Teach me to do that, Dad,” Mattie begged. She’d dropped the -a when she was six.</p><p>            Nick pulled himself up onto the top rope and spring boarded onto Matt, who caught him and landed flat on his back. While Nick swept back up to his feet, Matt pulled his feet up, rolling up onto his shoulder and flipping backward to stand.</p><p>            “You’ve got to get taller first,” Nick said, glancing over at me. I leaned back, my feet propped up on another chair, and rubbed slow circles on my belly. I shrugged, well aware that every one of our children would be brought up in the wrestling business and that they might decide to follow in their fathers’ footsteps. “And you’ve got to learn to do a cartwheel first.”</p><p>            “But I can!”</p><p>            Matt leaned back against the ropes and waved his hand at the center of the ring. “Go ahead then,” he said teasingly. “Nikki, come here.”</p><p>            While Mattie climbed over the bottom rope, Nikki crawled underneath and scrambled over to her Papa. Mattie went to the middle of the ring, took a deep breath, and attempted a cartwheel. She planted her hands on the mat, but couldn’t get her feet over her head. Instead, she just sort of <em>hopped</em> from one side to the other and stood up, arms in the air.</p><p>            “That’s a good try, my love,” Nick said, climbing back into the ring. “Let’s see if we can get your feet off the ground. Watch me.”</p><p>            Nick put his arms over his head and leaned sideways. He landed one hand and kicked up his leg. The other hand came down, the other leg lifted up. For a moment, he did a handstand, then he let his momentum carry him over back onto his feet again.</p><p>            “I can’t do that,” Mattie said unhappily. “I’m not strong enough.”</p><p>            Matt looked back at her from where he stood, helping Nicole climb the turnbuckles. “You will be. You’ve got to practice. Try again. Dad will help.”</p><p>            For the next ten minutes. I watched Nick kneel in the center of the ring and help Mattie do cartwheels. He showed her how to lean over, how to make sure that her hands landed in the right way, and how to kick her legs over the top. Every time she tried, Nick held her by the waist and supported her weight, helping her flip all the way over.</p><p>            “You’re going to fall eventually, and you should try to fall safe whenever you can,” Nick instructed. He put his hand on the back of our daughter’s neck. “Always protect your neck. If you feel like you’re going to fall, tuck your chin into your chest and try to land on your back. Like this.”</p><p>            Nick got up in a handstand. “Tuck your chin.” He bent his head, pressing his chin against his chest. “Land on the back of your shoulders.” He swung his legs down behind him, the momentum dropping him onto his shoulder blades. The ring made a heavy thump when he landed.</p><p>            “Does it hurt when you and Papa fall? Or when you fight with Uncle Kenny or your friends?”</p><p>            Matt carried Nicole over to where Nick and Mattie sat in the center of the ring. “Sometimes,” he said. “Our friends know how to fight and not hurt anybody really bad. But sometimes accidents happen. Do you remember when Dad and I came home, and I couldn’t play for a few days and you had to be <em>really</em> careful with hugs? When Mama had to put ice on my back?”</p><p>            My chest constricted, my breath catching in my lungs. One bad fall, one wrong move, a careless drop… that’s all it would take to end their careers… or worse. It terrified me every time they had a bump or a bruise or an ache that lingered for more than a day. We tried to keep that from the girls as much as possible. They shouldn’t have to worry about their fathers like that.</p><p>            “Yeah,” Mattie replied, looking down and picking at her shoes. I could see it clear as day from where I sat—her little shoulders where straight, even as she shrank into herself. My heart broke. “It was scary.”</p><p>            Matt handed Nicole to Nick and gestured for Mattie to come sit on his lap. She perched on her Papa’s knee, twisting her fingers in her lap. Matt put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I know, Tea. It scared me too. And Mama.”</p><p>            “And me,” Nick added, watching his brother seriously.</p><p>            “Hey,” Matt said, looking between Mattie and Nicole. “I’m going to make you a promise, okay? To you, Nikki, Lee, the new baby, and Mama. I promise that no matter what happens, Dad and I will always come home. And we’re always going to be here for you.”</p><p>            He kissed her forehead and reached out for Nicole’s hand. I watched as the men I loved sat in the center of their ring with our daughters in their laps. The tears came and I sniffed, overwhelmed again and again by how much I loved them and how much they loved us. Matt looked my way, his lips curving into a smile that showed the dimples in his round cheeks. I smiled back, bringing my fingers to my lips and blowing a kiss in his direction.</p><p>            “C’mon,” Nick said, getting to his feet. “Let’s see if you can suplex me, my love.”</p><p>            Mattie grinned as she climbed off her Papa’s lap. Very few seven-year-olds even knew what a suplex was, but our girl knew every different kind of suplex. She was particularly fond of her Uncle Kenny’s snapdragon suplex.</p><p>            Personally, I was a sucker for her Papa’s locomotion suplex.  </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>